RWBY Remnants Silver Legends
by MNR silver halos
Summary: The World of Remnant is shrouded in mystery from the Maidens, the Man with two souls, and the Brothers Grimm. Yet none are so mysterious as the old legends of Ainoril. Great warriors whose eyes shined brighter than the moon. Not just the inexperienced Ruby Rose but those that came before her. The Legendary warriors of Remnant's lost past.
1. Prolodgue

Prologue

Settlement of Gale/Pre Valien area/ Sanus; March 25/ 4045 B.F.B.

Ansovald the latest of Ozma's reincarnations, nineteen, and feeling the weight of the impossible task forced upon him. The creatures of Grimm have not been seen near Gale for weeks, Not even the weakest of them have come, and Gale has endured the harshest of Winters.

"What is she planning now," he thought.

"Does she know your back again?"

"Does she know I'm … or we, are here?"

"I don't know," said the one clouding his mind."

It's hard to think when you share a mind and soul with someone. Two beings conflicted till the inevitable fate of becoming one. It's just a matter of time.

"Ansovald, we should leave soon."

Those words stirred thoughts of doubt and resentment within him.

"No … I'm not leaving, Gale needs me more than your burden."

"If we stay here any longer, we will die."

"Guess you know that better than anybody," said Ansovald as he donned his cloak, and Ozma's scepter and headed out.

****Notes****

BFB= Before the fall of Beacon.

Year 0=Fall of Beacon RWBY V1/2/3

AFB=After the fall of Beacon RWBY V4/5/6


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

**_**Silirin/Endëmar/Numen; April 21st 4029 B.F.B.**_**

The mid-morning sun shines over Silirin. It's citizens go about their affairs. Most of them calm and casual. While others have growing concerns that weigh them down. But the City Lord and his family seem to be troubled the most. In times like these you need to be sure of the choices you make. Especially the ones that concern family.

Herod; Lord of Silirin sat with a legate bearing word throughout the lands within Numen.

"What News from the Northern Kingdoms asked Herod?"

"The Curutan of Itreb-dum maintain a steady hold on Oroma's borders. However the Human kingdoms far north of Oroma appear to be on their last pillar. As for the Faunus tribes in the region, their fates remain unknown. Possibly they fled to their cousins in the south or they were enslaved, said the legate."

Being a slave to her is a cruel fate that nobody should bear, he thought.

"The Gwedor and the Faunus of Ravador?"

"They are still on the attack, but most of their forces stand guard around the Lenwanor peninsula. The Faunus of the south still hold a great presence, however hoards of their people have either gone missing, fled to the lands across the waves or quite possibly taken prisoner."

"Why would you assume they might have been taken prisoner?"

"Because, among the missing Faunus is Chieftain Fahd's son, and Fahd claims that his disappearance was not of his own accord."

As a parent himself, the thought of losing a child left a tight grip on his heart.

"What of the Linnor in the west and the human kingdoms of the south, he asked, trying to push thoughts of worry from his head."

"Both the Linnor and the humans seems to be fine. Other than small packs of Grimm , nothing strange to cause concern."

That put a sense of calm in his mind.

"Any word from the Manahon?"

"Nothing new since the loss of Nortil Ara two weeks ago."

His concerns began to rise.

"Thank you Horace,said Herod."

"That will be all for now. Inform me the moment you get any word from them."

"I will my lord said the legate as he left the room."

Herod sat alone pondering in thought of the information he received, and concerns for an old friend.

"Where are you Nye, and what's going on he asked himself out loud."

"I'm sure he's fine Herod, said a familiar and equally concern voice."

As Herod turned his head to see that it was his wife; Miriam. She was standing by the doorway with her arms crossed. Her face composed but her eyes discerning. As if she wasn't truly sure of her answer.

"Aneirin will be fine as always, she said with a hint of uncertainty in her voice."

He noticed that something else was troubling her.

"You're probably right, he said hoping that it would ease her mind."

"Besides his ego wouldn't let it happen anyway, he said in a humoring tone."

She raised a hand to suppress her giggling. And to her surprise found that she was now in a warm embrace by him. Giving in, she rested her head against his chest, eyes closed, with a small smile on her face. The tension she had seemed to have been dulled down a bit, but it was still there. At least it wasn't as great as it was earlier.

"What seems to be troubling you dear, Herod asked?"

Her smile faded.

"You know why, she said."

He then began to think of everything of recent events that would trouble her. And he could only think of one thing. The one person that, if she lost him, she would die in an instint.

"This is about Ithiel isn't it, he asked sure of that being the cause of her worries?"

She nodded yes to his question.

"I have my concerns to Miriam, but at the same time he needs the proper training. In times like these, that's something he'll need now more than ever."

"I know, she said in a state of sadness."

"It's just … I'm worried about him Herod."

"Of course your worried about him. Your his mother. It's okay for a parent to be worried about their child. But we can't hold him back. The day will come when we won't be here for him, and until that day comes we have to do what we can to make sure that he's ready."

That was the harsh truth she thought. She can't deny the fact that Remnant is still a very dangerous place. And with Salem wanting their people gone, living life just seems to be impossible. She knows she has to let him go if he is to have a better chance of life.

"I know … I just … wish we had more time to live … happy, and blessed."

"I wanted the same thing too. Don't worry everything will be alright."

Her smile returned.

"Speaking of Ithiel, he said as he moved slightly, so that his silver eyes met hers."

"Where is our Son?"

In the Streets of Silirin, a young man walks among the masses. Just passing time His mind elsewhere. Little did he know that his world was about to change.

_****Notes****_

This story takes place over four thousand years before the events of Volume 1.

Silirin; City of Shining light

This mostly revolves around the silver eyed warriors, how they lived, fought, died, and how Ozpin knew about them.


	3. Chapter 2

****Chapter 2****

****Silirin; the great haven of the Arhon. Population; 15,854.****

Strolling through the tranquil streets of Silirirn, Ithiel ponders his thoughts. Yearning for adventure and dreaming of the day to see the world far beyond the walls of Silirin. But till that day comes, he'll just have to dream. As well as lend a helping hand when he can.

"Hey… Hey Ithiel, wait up, announced a familiar voice."

Ithiel turned to see that it was Lucius, getting his attention. He stopped so that Lucius can catch up to him. As soon as he caught up they resumed walking.

"What is it Lucius, implored Ithiel?"

"Nothing much, Lucius stated. Just want to have a talk with a friend about few things important."

"What is it then, Ithiel inquired?"

Lucius's left hand went to rub the nape of his neck, anxious thoughts were plaguing his mind.

"It's about the War in the North, Lucius testified?"

That caught him by surprise.

"Tormenyon, or The Ramaite Isles, added Ithiel?"

"The one with the United Kingdoms of Man, Faunus and our distant cousins; the Manahon, insisted Lucius."

"Okay what about them?"

That was an interesting question; what about our distant cousins, he thought?" Ever since the 16th year of the 7th age of Reconciliation and following ages after the Manahon had risen to become the most dominant nation of our time. But with the 13th age of doubt leading into the now 13th age of conflict things seem dire.

"I feel as though their conflict will spread here, and that it will come sooner than expected, Lucius declaried."

That answer jolted Ithiel with shock and dread. Though Lucius wasn't wrong about the current state of our world, he could have worded that a bit better.

"How can you be sure that war would come here now, Ithiel debated?"

A brief moment of silence happens between the two. The silence breaks when Lucius finally gives Ithiel his reasoning.

"There hasn't been any word from the Manahon in weeks, Lucius pointed out."

"The Kingdoms of Tormenyon are losing to invaders from the lands across the sea. And they're close to conquering all of the north, he added."

"The Gwedor choose to remain divided into their city states. And half of them are at war with each other."

"The Faunus choose to remain isolated and neutral from the conflicts of man. The ego of man has driven them to either cowardice or resentment.

"And soon allies will abandon us to save themselves. Whether we like it or not we are alone. Always have been and always will, my friend, Lucius Admitted."

Ithiel just stood there despair in his thoughts. Lucius did have compelling argument; Justifiable, but true. They were alone. How long till another age of abandonment, he thought? The days are getting darker, mistrust among allies is spreading. And their numbers fading. From his kin of Arhon to the lesser and open minded Linnor. Their people were dying out.

Sooner or later those with silver eyes will become scarce, and soon fade away to legend. But for some reason he feels as though those legends will turn to dust rather than to gold. It's one thing to die, and another to be forgotten. Which fate is worse? He doesn't know. But both are cruel in their own way.

"I think you just worry too much, he protested. Besides so long as we maintain our bonds of amity, as well as our hope and trust in people. We will be able to face any challenge that comes our way, Ithiel insisted."

Lucius knew that he just said that to help ease his mind, but he is aware that his friend shares his concerns.

"It's times like these do I wish I had your optimistic personality, Lucious jested."

"And sometimes I wish I had your wisdom, Ithiel joked."

The two resumed walking, Ithiel's joyed to know that he was able to ease his friends concerns. Then again Lucius doesn't know the full story. He and many others don't know that all of the events that have happened over the past decades have been the manipulation of an old enemy. One that hasn't been seen since the days of Abbadon. And one thought to have died as well. To the ancient world she was known as the witch. Those of his race called her _****Duntoril****_. But to those who have sought to know more of her know her as Salem.

He feels as though he should tell his closest friends of her, but he knows word would spread fast. Thus it would lead to panic, then to slaughter. The burden of this knowledge is his and those who already know. All he can do now is have hope and trust that she would never be able to achieve her goals. Sometimes he regrets knowing of her, other time he's glad to know the truth though.

"See you another time Ithiel, Lucius said as he parted ways with Ithiel."

"You too Lucius."

There he was again, alone, left to ponder in thoughts. Before he knew of Salem he was overjoyed to be sociable with other. Now he feels lonely. Hiding truths that could lead to chaos and death. Something he never thought before, as well as nobody to talk about it with. Truly a burden he wished he received when he was older.

As noon approaches, he heads home. He's greeted by his mother in a warm and caring hug. Then he heads to the study of the manor. He grabs the book he was reading the day before and resumes where he left off. His avia, Na'omi waves to him as she passes by. An hour passes by his book has his attention till a voice he rarely hears takes it away.

"Son."

He looks up to see his father.

"We need to talk.

****NOTES****

****Avia;**** Latin; Grandmother

****Duntoril;**** The Black Queen


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

****The Mountains of Isilmë/Endëmar/East of Silirin.****

The evening sun approaches Endëmar. The blue sky fades to red violet. At the peak of the mountains stands a dark figure, hooded and cloaked, gazes upon Silirin. Under the hood a red glow surrounds their eyes. Then it began to descend down the mountains. Onward to the city.

****Villa Ilsalos/Silirin/Endëmar****

Ithiel and Herod walk among the plants, and flowers of the gardens behind the their home. They checked to make sure that no one else was there with them. As soon as they confirmed that they were alone, they were free to speak.

"May I ask why you wanted to talk to me in secret father, Ithiel asked?"

Herod stood there calm and stern. His brow furrowed as his jaw tightened. Then he began to speak.

"It's about our current era of time, he said. As you are aware you and many others have been born during a time of great conflict. "

" It would appear so, Ithiel acknowledged with a hint of doubt."

"Given what has happened over the years and with the newest word from the North the days are growing darker now than they were then.

Ithiel gave a nod to his fathers words. He can agree with his reasons. The previous age was one of doubt, but when this new age first started, it began with conflict. He was 2 years of age when the conflict started.

"I fear that soon the wars of the North will spread to other lands, including ours, Herod stated."

He was disturbed that his father would say such things. That his thoughts were more filled with doubt and concern, than hope and trust. Than again fate is uncertain, fortune does not seem to grace those in need of it the most. Especially when they needed it. Like King Douglas IV of Tol-na Merya. His death was one of many that led to the Wars that has plagued our time.

"May I ask why I am here, he asked with an urge to know why his father wanted to talk with him?"

"I want you and several others to journey West, theirs an old friend of mine that could helps us, he answered."

"An old friend, he Implored?"

"One I met years ago, the circumstances of which were … complicated. He lives deep within the forest of Elensil. Said that it would be best if he lived isolated for good of all, but now I think it's been long enough, he stated."

Ithiel tried to think of whoever this friend was if he knew of him. The Forests of Elensil clung very closely to Ered Giliath, and far north of Ainorilos, and south of the Minatelf gap and forts.

"Why me though he asked in confusion? If you think he can help wouldn't it be best to send either the Rangers or the Arbiter to bring him here?"

"Who said he was coming here, Herod corrected. You're going to him, he declared."

"What," he said as his head jerked towards his father, with eyes wide in surprise about what he just said!

"He lives alone for a reason, my son," he said as he put a hand on his shoulder. "He may not be willing to stand and fight with us but that does not mean he won't teach those in need. I'm sending you so you can gain the skills and knowledge you need. As I said before, the conflict will spread until it reaches our borders and beyond," Herod said as he removed his hand from his shoulder. "You need to be ready for when that day comes," he said as he used his other hand to point at him.

Ithiel gave thought to the words he just heard, and came to an answer.

"As you wish, father, Ithiel said in respect. When do I leave, he asked?"

"In two days before noon, Herod answered. That should be enough time for you and the others to prepare for the journey."

"Others, Ithiel asked?"

"You didn't think you were the only one I was sending to him, now did you, he asserted. Members from the other houses will be going with you to be trained. Now any other questions he asked?"

"Just … Who is it that you're sending us to, he asked?"

"As of now he goes by Ansovald, but you may know him better as **_**Tâdëalar**_**."

"The man with two souls, Ithiel asked in shock! I thought he was just a story."

"So it would seem, but that doesn't mean that there is some truth to it, he declared"

****Ûr-Barsad/Silirin/Endëmar****

The night sky was a complete overcast of black. No moon, nor star was to be seen. The only source of light came from the homes of Silirins citizens and the lanterns from the Ostirio night guard. Few people were out in the streets. Most were heading home. Others for a stroll in the dark and one doing last minute work delivering letters. But unbenounced to him a dark shadow lurks within the walls of the city.

As he finished delivering the last letter he began his journey home. He makes his way northward to Ened nómë where his home is. As he makes his way through the city he comes across Arbiter Prisca, the head of the Ostirio.

"Hey, hey, Prisca, Horace called out."

"Oh, hello Horace, she greeted. What is it the you need, she asked?"

"Nothing really, just on my way home, he answered."

"I see. Care if I join you, she asked?"

"I don't mind, but don't you have duties to attend to, he questioned?"

"Yes but a witness claimed he saw a dark figure at the peaks of Isilmë, she answered as she pointed to mountains. It may have been nothing, but still better safe than sorry she stated."

"Alright he said. Care to be my personal escort, Horace boasted ."

"Ha, ha … Culus, she cursed."

NOTES

Culus; Latin/ asshole

Ûr-Barsad=Great house area

Ened nómë=Central land

Ostirio=City guard

Tâdëalar= two spirits

Elensil=Star moon

Isilmë=Moonlight

Ered Giliath=Mountains of Starlight

Tol-na-Merya=The Isle of Joy

Minatelf= Fort of Silver

Ainorilos=City of God's brilliance/City of Angels


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

**_**Ened nome/Silirin/Endemar April 22nd 4029 B.F.B.**_**

It was midnight in the heart of Silirin. Its citizens sleep soundly, the candles no longer lit. Few of the guards are left in the streets. Horace and Prisca proceed through the city, with a casual talk with each other. Unbeknownst to him a foul presence is within the city. That may be his doom.

"So how goes everything, Horace asked?"

"You know the same old thing, she answered. Maintaining the peace, and everything that is expected from the Arbiter."

"Like maintaining a steady relationship, he said amused."

That caught her off guard.

"What do you mean by that, she asked?"

"You know your separation from Laban, and?before he could finish his face was met with a fist from her."

"Choose your words carefully, she said aggrievated."

"Ow, he whimpered in pain as he put his hand on his cheek."

He then began to think about what just happened. Normally she would speak up and interrupt him before he can finish. Sometimes a slap but never a punch according to his memory he thought."

"Is something wrong, he asked?"

"I don't know is there."

"It's just you've never punched anyone when they brought that up, even me, he declared. So I ask again is something wrong."

"I've been under a lot of stress recently and you just brought up a disturbing subject, that's all, she declared in a calm voice."

He gave some thought to this. He had seen her stressed before, especially when the subject of her former husband and missing son were brought up but she would always try to keep a calm presence. No matter who was within her company. As the Legate of Silirin he is use to getting the first news of the world. So normally he is aware of what is happening, and can probably predict what is going to happen.

But she is the Arbiter of Silirin. She is tasked with keeping the city and her citizens safe. As such she has access to knowledge that he is unaware of, and given the world today the times do seem stressful. Guess that's how war affects everyone's world.

"I'm sorry, he said."

She looked at him with a straight face and a cold stare from her silver eyes.

"Apology accepted, she acknowledged."

They continued walking till they were nine buildings away from their destination. Until Horace's Omasar began to glow. Someone was trying to contact him.

"Mind if I take this he asked"

"Not at all, she smiled."

"Salve, he answered as he moved his Omasar from his pocket."

But as soon as he finished answering a startling revelation began to seep into his mind as he heard a familiar voice coming from the other side of the Omasar.

"Horace it's me Prisca, and …"

"PRISCA, he said in shock."

"Yes it's me, and …"

"Where are you, and how did … he asked interrupting her again, and cutting himself off as he turned to see where the one who he thought was Prisca was at only to discover that she had vanished."

"I'm at the Tower Ostirio, she answered. And how did what, she asked?"

Unaware of the danger he may be in.

"Prisca listen to me you need to … Before he could finish the shadow behind spawned two evil eyes clad in red, and two deformed hands no longer human. The right covered his mouth, and his left over his abdomen. Then they pulled him into the dark of the shadow causing him to drop his Omasar to the ground.

"Need me to do what Horace, she asked. What is going on Horace, Horace?"

As her voice continued it was then silenced as the Omasar was crushed under the heel of a shadowy figure hooded, & cloaked with eyes of red flame. With Horace's Satchel in his hand, he leaves a strange sigil on the wall of the alley where the blood stain remains of Horace lie. Then it proceeds through the city to continue its master's sinister task.

**_**NOTES**_**

**_**Salve; Latin; Hello**_**

**_**Omasar; Voice stone**_**


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

**_**Tower Ostirio/Silirin/Endemar April 22nd 4029 B.F.B.**_**

"Need me to do what Horace, she asked. What is going on Horace, Horace?"

As Prisca continued she then heard a loud shattering sound then nothing after.

"What the hell is going on?"

She then put the omasar down, then began to think of what was happening to him. Crime within Silirin was almost nonexistent. Even then it was just petty-theft, and juvenile mischief. The tone of his voice was one of terror though, she thought. She was concern of course, but had to be reasonable, otherwise she would cause a panic. She then went to a couple of sentinels that were still there.

"You two, she called out."

The two stood there dumbfounded by who it was then went to attention.

"Yes Arbiter, they said greeting her with the utmost respect."

"As you were ,she said. Are you two familiar with the Legate Horace, she asked?"

"Um-yes Arbiter, said one of them."

"Good, she said. I need you two to find him, and make sure he's well."

"As you command Arbiter, said the other. We will see it through, he said as they left."

After they left she then went down to the Lockup of the tower. Once there she then went to the two people who were the reason she tried to call Horace. Horace's son Lucius, and his nephew Ezer. They were apprehended a couple of hours ago for stolen horses, and illegal chariot racing. A few minor charges sure, but the law is the law.

"Salve puerorum, greeting the both of them, she did."

"Salve Arbiter, said Ezer in contempt."

"Is my father coming to get us, asked Lucius?"

She paused for a moment trying to think of the right words to say.

"I couldn't get a hold of him, she answered. Concealing the truth of her uncertainty. Must have been a problem with the Omalime, she added to her deception."

"Or it could be that he's down in the gutter again from another night drinking, Ezer asserted interrupting her."

That response earned him a cold stare from Lucius.

"What he asked? It wouldn't be the first time."

"Well until I get ahold of someone from your House I'm afraid you'll have to spend the rest of the night here, she declared as she crossed her arms. Is that understood?"

"Yes, mam, Lucius acknowledged while Ezer remained silent."

"Understood, she asked again?"

"Understood, he consented."

She nodded her head, and left. The two of them and the guard down the hall were the only ones left in the Lockup. The two sat opposite of each other against the cell walls.

"Spending the night with the half-breed, wonderful, jeered Ezer.

Lucius moved his head to face him. He knew the insult was about him and his dad. As cousins he hoped there would be some common ground between them. However unlike his three brothers, Ezer never seemed to like the human side of him. The part of him that wasn't Ainoril. The part that he got from his father, an ordinary human who was lucky that his mother of pure Ainoril blood fell for him. He often wondered what life would be like if she was still around.

But at least he still had a father, he thought. Unlike Ezer's father a well known healer, and brother-in-law to his father, was never around as much as he would like. In times like these the demand for healers is high. Unfortunately that puts a strain on his relationship with his sons. Especially his first born. Too bad that he has to endure his wrath.

But for now he'll just have to ignore his harsh words, and wait.

**_**Ened nome/Silirin/Endemar**_**

Dawn approaches Silirin, some of its citizens began to rise. The farmers wake, and the night guard retire. All but two remain to search. But what they will find will be a first for them. As well as a first for the city since its early years. Dark times are upon them all.

"Can we call it a night now, Gaius asked tired in exhaustion?"

"Not until we find Horace, Levi pointed out"

"But we've been searching all night and the sun is rising, Gaius whined."

"Then it makes it easier for us to find him, Levi implored."

That shut him up for the time being. Until he stepped in something foul smelling.

"Oh great, he complained."

"What, asked Levi?"

"I think I stepped in dog shit, he replied as he was scraping the heel of his boot off on the pavement."

As the sun continued to rise, the shadow that was covering the source of the foul smell was revealed. Levi was the first to notice.

"I don't think that's dog shit Gaius, he inquired."

Taken aback by his statement he then noticed the trail of blood under him. Then he began to slowly turn his head toward the source. From there he saw it. The blood leading to the pool of its origin lay under the body of a man badly mutilated.

A large gash over the man's stomach. Claw marks all over his chest. His left arm limp with great gauges of muscle ripped off. With his hand missing all but two fingers, and thumb. A bloody sight Gaius thought to himself as he turned away not wanting to see the face. Which was still covered in shadows.

But as soon as the shadows moved away, Levi recognized who it was. Despite the deep punchers around the mouth, and clawed out eye, he was certain of who this was. This was Horace, he thought, or what was left of him. He crouched down next to the body and searched it. Hoping to find something to confirm his identity.

And he did as he pried open his right hand which held the Lotarwa of Lydia; his late wife. He then began to stand with the lotarwa in his hand now. He then turned to Gaius.

"Alert the Arbiter, and City Lord Gaius,he ordered. We found Horace. The first murder victim of Silirin in centuries, he declared.

NOTES

****Salve puerorum****; Latin/ Hello boys

****Omalime****; Voice link

****Ainoril****; God's brilliant lights(The Silver eyed Warriors)

****Lotarwa****; Rosary

Despite the progressiveness of Silirin not all silver eyes are happy to live with Humans or Faunus. Let alone have families with. As such Lucius is left conflicted between his two halves

Also Silirin is the All star city of Numen. As such, most people of all races' come to live a simple and peaceful life here. During the city's early years around the settling of Endemar things were a bit less orderly.

As such proper laws weren't established until both the Grimm were forced out of Endemar and the city had finished its first initial construction. Most of the crimes were Human, and Faunus related.

Also Gaius is a human while Levi has silver eyes.


	7. Chapter 6

**_**Chapter 6**_**

**_**The river Isil/The Mountains of Isilme/Between Endemar, & Iresta**_**

_****April 22nd 4029 B.F.B.****_

Dawn has come, the morning sun rises. The Irestian merchant ship Linia Podzielona sails through the river. Her crew, keep their heading, and continue their course. One of the many passengers aboard gazes from the Bow of the ship. He tries to see if they are close to their destination, but is still met by mist. His gaze is delayed by one of the crew.

"It's still a long way till we reach Silirin, the crewman said as he walked up to him. Once the sun has risen the mist will clear, and after that it will be smooth sailing from here on out, he stated as he placed a hand on the gazer's shoulder, and gestured with his other."

He nodded his head, and the crewman returned to his duties. The mist around the ship was dense. Slow and steady he thought, but this was taking an eternity. As he continued in thought another passenger came to speak with him.

"Mein Lord, zee cabdain zays zat ve vill reach Zilirin vithin zee hour next, he informed."

"Diolch Detlef, he said in acknowledgment."

Detlef then began his way down to the lower decks. He was alone again. Left to gaze beyond bow Left with nothing but his thoughts of dark times. Times that he wished to forget. But still, he was here. Unlike those that weren't fortunate or blessed to be here. The pace of time had quicken while his mind wandered from reality.

Only for a single beam of sunlight to graze his face. Soon after more followed. Then the sun had rose. As the mist cleared and the fading colors of night suppressed by the rising sun, he saw it all. The Vast fields of Endemar, the Lush trees of Taure-mi-Amuntë, but above all The Silver City of Silirin. The Crown Jewel of Numen. It was a site to behold, he thought.

His awestruck feelings soon vanished as he heard the screams of the crew. They were under attack. Not by marauders or the forces of nature but by Grindylows. Few had leapt aboard the top deck. Some had taken the high ground via the ship's mast. Most hung on the sides, and with their elastic long fingers began to rope dart members of the crew. They then pulled them into the river. Their fates were sealed the moment they hit the water.

As he watched the ensuing chaos one of them climb silently behind him. It then pounced hoping to grab him. Only for the Low to be chokeslammed onto the deck. It then met its end when his foe drawn out a blade then stabbed it through his forehead. The aquatic grimm then dissipated to ash. Another one tried to do the same tactic of its fallen kin hoping he would have better odds. Only for his face to be met with a bullet of fire.

"Vu really need to keep ein eye out for your zurrountings, the unknown shooter declared."

He turned his head to meet his unknown savior. Only to be met with a familiar face.

"Frida is that you, he asked in surprise, As she shot another one that pounced at him?"

"Yeah it's me, she said as she continued firing until she ran out of ammo. She discarded it and drew her sword.

She then cutdown three Grindlylows. One lost a limb the other was bisected and the last one decapitated. As the first one had scampered away, Detlef emerged from the lower decks with a shethed sword.

"Mein Lord, he called out carrying the svord take it, he exclaimed as he held the hilt outward towards him,"

His right hand grasped the hilt, and unsheathed it. Once out he grasped the hilt with his other hand. As he readies himself the Grindylows hanging from the sides began to rope dart him in. Only for their fingers to be blocked and sliced off by him. They Screamed in agony as they fell back into the water.

As the side hangers fell back in. The ones on the mast became the only rope darters left. While more of them kept jumping aboard the ship attacking the crew.

"Vat do ve do Lord Vyn, Detlef asked as he readied his sword?"

"Yeah vat do ve do Wyn, Frida inquired, as she drew her second blade?"

"Just make sure their dead by the time we get to Silirin, he answered as he readied his blade for the fight to come."

**_**Ened nome/Silirin/Endemar**_**

The sun had risen. Its light over the city, as its citizens awaken. Some of them have already awoken before it rose. Soon everyone in the city will know what had happened. Its people never knew murder within the walls of their city. This revelation will show them that during times of conflict nowhere is safe. The peaceful days of Silirin will soon come to an end.

The middle city/Ened nome has become the sight of a gruesome death. The Legate Horace of the House of the Alanira lays dead in the alley. The Arbiter, several Ostirio, and the Lord of Silirin were there. A crisis that needs to be resolved before anyone else finds out. As well as to prevent this from happening to anyone else.

"Hurry up you two get those tarps up."

"Yes Warden."

"Make sure the body is out of sight, the warden commanded."

As they made sure to seal off the area where the body was, The City Lord ,and the Arbiter of Silirin were in a long talk about the situation.

"How did this happen Arbiter, Herod asked in aggravation?"

"My watchers are still looking over the body, she answered. But from what we can tell this happened sometime after-midnight, and before dawn. Most likely during the changing of the guard."

"Do we have anyone else that saw what happened or who could have done this?"

"No one has come about to us about this, and it's too early to tell who done this."

As they continued talking one of the watchers approached them.

"Arbiter, My lord, were finished looking over the body, he said."

"Thank you abel. Shall we, she asked Herod?"

He nodded his head and they both proceeded to the scene. The watcher crouched down and removed the sheet that was over the body. Both of them were shaken by what they saw. Its worse then I imagined Prisca thought to herself. She had her fair share of gore but not to this extent. Then the watcher began to give the details of this gruesome scene.

" Ok as said before a Large gash over the stomach. Claw marks over the chest and mouth. Right eye missing, and left arm destroyed beyond use. Whoever did this was someone with a knack for quick disposal, and concealment. As well as the hands being deformed, the Watcher stated."

"What do you mean by deformed hands, Herod inquired?"

'Well as you can see the claw marks are distinct by how many fingers are missing. For example the right hand of our unknown murderer is missing their forefinger, and pinky. While their left is missing only the ring finger. However as you can also see the fingers differ in how deep they went in. Meaning that some of them may just be rounded stubs. It also tells us that despite their hindrance, they had enough strength to still claw, and gauge out flesh, and muscle with ease."

"Great, I got a dead friend, and a killer with super strength on the loose, fucking great, Herod said disdainfully."

"Anything else to report, the Arbiter asked?"

"Actually yes, the watcher said as he moved to another part of the scene. These shattered remains of a omasar were crushed under the heel of our assailant, he stated as he pointed it out to them. And some of the remains were stuck under their heel, causing a trail to take form as he walked away to the east."

"Our killer went east, Prisca asked? They would just be burrowing themselves deeper into the city, trapping them. Why would they do that?"

"That does seem to be the common question, Why, Herod stated."

Yaramar/Silirin/Endemar

Yaramar one of the many old districts that helped establish Silirin as a city. Nothing much to say of this old land. Open spaces, small towns, the mines to the east below the mountains, and ruined castles are what make up Yaramar. Within one of the ruined castles a familiar shadow sat their hiding. Reading the many scriptures and letters that he took from Horace.

Among them the most detailed map of the city, the routine schedule for the Ostirio,and other civil servants. But most of all letters meant to be sent to lords and kings of far away lands. As well as to the higher ups of the Arasule Orde, and their battle plans. All of this information has so far been proven useful as he prepares his next target; The Omalime. Without proper communication the city will fall sooner than expected, he thought.

He noticed two guards on their patrol. He hurried and placed everything back into the bag he stole. Then he placed another symbol similar to the one he left behind at Horace's place of death. Then he left avoiding the guards as he took the roads leading north, Hoping that he can gain entry to the place where the Omalime was kept by taking the long path. Soon the city will fall he thought. The city will fall is all he can think about.

****NOTES****

Irestia; Desired land

Linia Podzielona; Polish/ Divided line

Taure-mi-Amuntë; The Forest of Sunset

Alanira; Good will

Yaramar; The Ancient homeland

Arasule; Noble soul

Arasule Order, Silirins main military force

Diolch; Welsh/ thank you


	8. Chapter 7

**_**Chapter 7**_**

_****Tower Ostirio/Silirin/Endema****_r

The sun watches over the city. The Ostirios' conversations about Horace spread like rumors. Most of them pay no mind to it. To the ones who do, give it their full attention. Some parents are withholding their children till they know it's safe. Everyday workers are scared to go. The bright sun may be watching, but a dark shadow has been cast over Silirin. But the worse has yet to come. Meanwhile someone contemplates on how he can deliver the tragic news to a friend.

"Thanks for getting us out Ithiel, Lucius said."

"Don't worry about it, you two would have done the same for me, he responded."

"He might but I wouldn't," Ezer blurted out as he waits for the guard to return his items. "I'm still surprised that you came to get us out?" He asked as the guard came back with his items.

"As much as I hate to give him credit for this, but he does have a point," Lucius stated as he crossed his arms. "But why are you here, I thought my father was coming?"

Their questions caught him off guard. He stood there dumbstruck, and left in thought. Trying to think of the right words to say. After all, how can you tell your closet friends they had a death in the family. You can't, not yet anyway.

"You're, ah father um … " he stuttered. He was never much of a liar. " Your father is um busy at the moment,he implied. And after what happened yesterday in Yaramar I thought I would treat you for the day, since I kinda feel it was my fault for not stopping you two, Ithiel stated."

There was something off about their friend they thought. Then again being catered by the City Lord's son. Why not, they thought

"Ok since you refused to come with us you owe us," Ezer bragged as Lucius nodded his head in agreement with a smile plastered on his face.

The guard finished giving him back all of his items. They began to leave the Tower until one of the Ostirio called out for Ithiel.

"Walk with me for amoment Ithiel, they exclaimed."

"Steward Uriel," he answered as the steward approached them. "To what do I owe thee, Ithiel asked?"

"Can I have a word in private," Uriel asked as he gestured his hand toward the hall.

"As you wish," he complied. He then told his friends to wait for him. Calming it won't take too long. He then went to the Steward in the hall then began to ask what this matter was.

"What is it do you wish to speak with me abo-

"I know what you're trying to do," Uriel interrupted. "I understand they're your friends, but I believe that kind of news should be told by either your father, the Arbiter, or one of their kin," he testified. "I know you mean well, but for now just indulge them till the time is right, he advised as he put a hand on his shoulder. "That's all I ask of you, keep it a secret for now."

Torn by what had been asked of him, He knew the steward's words were true. This is something that he feels that he can't do. As their friend however he owes it to them. But for now he will keep this a secret. Hopefully the backlash won't be severe, he thought. Then he left.

**_**The river Isil/The Mountains of Isilme/Between Endemar, & Iresta**_**

"Okay is that all of them?"

"Looks like it."

"Ja."

"Wszyscy tu nie żyją."

"Ja… oh vait," Isa said as he began to plunge his blade through the neck of the last grindylow. "Now zeir all dead."

"Dzięki Bogu to koniec."

Linia Podzielona, and her surviving crew resume their course. The fog and Grimm are far behind them now. Though their ship is intact, they now lacks the necessary crew needed to operate it. As well as the needed sails to make the voyage faster. The ride to Silirin will have to be longer than some expected it to be.

"W porządku, kto nie żyje, a kto odszedł, the captain announced throughout the ship.

"What did he say," Wyn asked the guy next to him?

"He asking vo is dead und vo is left," Isa answered.

"Thanks, whoever you are," Wyn asserted.

"Oh I'm-

"Where's Detlef," Wyn interrupted?

"Dead, und I zink zis is zee only zing left of him," Frida answered as she held what she believed to be Detlefs right forearm.

"Well there goes my hired escort," he noted. He then turned to Isa. "Hey you worked under Detlef right?"

"Ja but-

"Good your my bodyguard now, Wyn declared."

"VHAT, vy me, vy not her, aren't vu zwei friends, or zomething," Isa fretted?

"Fair point," he agreed. "Frida care to accompany me for the time being," he asked?

"It's tembting put I Halready haffe vork zat avaits me," she answered as she tossed Detlef's hand to the side.

"Well your stuck with me then, um, what was your name again?"

"Isa.

"Well we're almost to the city. From here on out everything should be fine," he declared as he put an arm and leaned on his shoulder. "I think?"

"Ich werde verdammt noch mal sterben," Isa exclaimed as he lowered his head.

Soon after a loud horn was heard in the distance.

"What was that," they all asked?

_****The Sinda Castle/Silirin/Endemar ****_

Home to the Arasule Order, Sinda has had a long history of honorable service to Silirin. The first of four castles that would later help expand the city. Now it serves as the first line of defence, and trains the forces needed to ensure Silirins' safety. Especially In times like these. For now a pair of Edenyar converse as they finish their assigned task.

"Remind me again, why are we the ones on Armour polish again? It feels like it's the fifth day in a row, and this is all we do."

"Well we could've done something else, but someone angered the Confanonier," the other proclaimed.

"Thanks Zim, I can always count on you can I," bellowed Eran.

"How many times have I told you to stop calling me that," she contended!

"Well it's easier to say than Zimra."

As they continued their friendly banter, a loud horn was heard. They wonder what it could be. Then a loud commotion was heard outside room. They drop their respective work and exit out the armory door. The halls are filled. Everyone is rushing out of the castle.

"Hey hey, Or, what's going on," Zimra called out to her friend?

"Every one's either going to the towers or the curtain wall," she responded. "I'm going to the keeps' pinnacle, care to join me," Or asked?

"Sure," they said in delighted unison! Any excuse to get out of armor maintenance they thought.

They're on the move now. Hurrying to Sinda's highest point. As they reach their goal, others were there. More specifically the Grand Marshall, Seneschal, and the Confanonier. One of them will not be happy to see our mischievous pair.

"Can you make out their banners?"

"Not yet, they need to get closer."

"Should I light the beacon Marshal?"

"Not yet, but be at the ready."

"Isn't that for an emergencies," Eran asked Or?

"It is, but it depends on what kind of emergency."

"WHAT ARE YOU TWO DOING HERE," the Confanonier barked, as he notice that both Zimra, and Eran where there! Mostly at Eran.

"You can deal with them later Quirinus," the Marshall intervened. He felt that he was going to need every able body that he can get his hands on. Even if their new bloods, that have yet to see combat. He prayed to Ilaini that he was wrong and it was something else. "Seneschal can you make out their banners now?"

"I can vaguely make out the largest one, but it appears to be The Silote Legion."

As soon as he said it a large commotion began to stir up. Everyone in the pinnacle, from the edenyar to the staff, and to the guard pondered why. Why was one of their legions here.

"The Silote?"

"Why are they here?"

"I thought they were in the north."

"Hey Zim don't have like three older siblings that were assigned to The Silote Legion, Eran asked."

The thought of seeing her siblings again brought joy to her mind. But it came to conflict with thoughts of worry. She herself wasn't sure how she would respond to the outcome.

"Can you see who is leading them?"

"Judging by the white flag with the four curved lines, Marshal Laban seems to be in command," he answered.

"Well it's good to that still alive," the Marshal declared.

"Yeah," everyone else said disappointed.

"I take it he's not really well liked," Eran said.

"No he's not," Or answered.

As they got closer the Marshal noticed something was off with their numbers.

"How many members are they supposed to have," he asked.

"At least five thousand Sir. Why?"

"That doesn't look like a legion of five thousand, he argued. And far too many to be a regiment."

"Their raising more banners sir."

"What kind of banners did they raise?"

The Seneschal focused his sights to see. He waited for them to get closer to see them clearly. Upon first glance he thought he was mistaken. At least he hoped he was. But as they got closer the clearer it was that he was not mistaken. Dread was the only thing left on his face.

"Seneschal what banners did they raise?"

"Grand Marshal … they fly colours of Black marked by a red X," he said solemnly.

****NOTES****

Sinda; Gray

Wszyscy tu nie żyją; Polish/ All dead over here

Dzięki Bogu to koniec; Polish/ Thank God it's over

W porządku, kto nie żyje, a kto odszedł; Polish/ Alright who is dead and who is left

Ich werde verdammt noch mal sterben; Germen/ I'm gonna fucking die

Edenyar; New Blood


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

_**The West Valley road/ Rananore fields/ Endemar**_

Rananore; vast fields, and tall grass. Fertile farmland, and the Great Valley road passing through. Truely a peaceful land where the work is honest, and people live in safety. Quiet fields with the wind breezing through. But a small tremor disrupts this tranquil land.

Not a natural one born from nature. But one forged by the heels of thousands. Thousands running for the safety of home. Each at a different pace. Some fast, and quick others slow, and tired. Most of them were wounded, and dying. One of the many knights within this legion falls down to their knees. Weak and tired with blood dripping down their arm. Another knight hurries to his aid.

"Are you all right," the knight asked as he dropped to his knees to aid his comrade.

"I ...I ...may have ...lost more blood than I ...than I thought," he claimed in a very faint voice, as his breath grew shorter.

"You're going to be fine alright, we're almost home," he said, trying to comfort him.

"Hey, hey you two, over here," he called out to a pair of youngbloods to help him.

The two hurried over to answer his needs. The knight has one go find anyone who knows medicine. He knew he was asking too much. Especially since he knew most of the knights, or dames who were trained to be field doctors were either dead, or missing. As that one left, he had the other one help him lift the wounded knight back on his feet.

The knight takes the right side, and the remaining youngblood takes the left. The two keep in mind his damaged right arm. As they lift him up his arm from its socket falls down to the ground. They all look in shock, and surprise.

"Something tells me ...I'm not ...getting that back ...am I?"

"No...no you are not."

"We're almost there," cried the voice of someone on horseback! "Keep moving, They're bound to send help if we're close enough for them to see us!" The rider then noticed the trio. He got off his horse, and offered it to the wounded. "Take this, you need it more than I do," the rider offered.

The three of them got the wounded knight on the horse. After they secured him on it, they then had the youngblood saddle up on the horse. He would ride while it carried the wounded knight. Soon after they sent them off hoping that by the time they reached the gates they would be open. Hopefully aid will come to them, he thought. That's more than he can say for the rest of them.

He feels helpless as he knows he can't save them all. His mind was clouded by grief. He hangs his head in defeat looking down as he continues to walk down the path. Then all of a sudden a loud horn was heard. He raises his head to see the gates of Sinda open. Carriages, carts, and caravans began to exit the city. Escorted by the Ostirio wall garrison. They ride faster than the wind to aid them.

"We're saved," the knight beside him asked as he exclaimed in joy,"...Right?"

"Yes, yes we are," he answered

With renewed hope, they began to move in haste. The former rider stands alone to the side avoiding the raging stampede of hopeful souls. He noticed the severed arm of the wounded knight who he gave his horse to. He picks it up and removes the metal bracer which was in good condition. He tossed the lifeless limb into the nearby fields, so that it won't block the way of his troops as they rush for aid.

He had begun to walk down the path to the city. He then started to reflect on the events that led him here, as well as the tenets he was tasked to uphold. As the legions Marshal he swore an oath to those responsibilities. In his mind he failed them all.

_**Mahtale tole/Silirin/ Endemar**_

"What do you think that horn was," Ezer asked?

"It came from Sinda so it was probably a drill or something," Ithiel answered.

"Something is off," Lucius implored. "There were no drills scheduled today."

"Probably a surprise performance inspection then," Ithiel said.

Three friends argue, and discuss the reasons behind the sound they heard. They're also not the only ones either. The people around them, and throughout the city wonder the same thing. In their own thoughts they hope it was nothing to be concerned with. Strange days are ahead, but are they for the better or for the worst. But for now friends will wine and dine.

"Which one of you ordered the ale and honey biscuits?"

"Here," Lucius said, raising his hand. The server gave him his order, and began to drink.

"Okay and the salted fish with cheese bread, and Poitin."

"That be mine," claimed Ezer.

"Alright and I guess you're the one who wanted the strawberry tart, and port wine, I take it."

"A personal favorite to the end I'm afraid," Ithiel acknowledged as he smiled in delight. "Gratias tibi," he said to her.

After she finished serving their food, she proceeded to the next table. The three friends share a toast, and drink. Sometime had passed before the three began their conversation anew.

"So anybody got something interesting going on," queried Ezer?

"Nothing much going on in my life. Probably going to return to my studies," Lucius answered

"Let me rephrase that," asserted Ezer. "Anyone besides mixed-eyes here got something to say," he bellowed.

That earned a scornful stare from Lucius. Ithiel couldn't help but feel disappointed in Ezer. As a fellow Arhon he at least thought that all of them were like minded for the better. Guess he was wrong. But there's still hope for them yet. Best to change the subject before things escalate.

"To answer your question Ezer," he said, hoping to avoid conflict. "I'll be leaving the city soon if you're curious."

That seemed to have nulled the tension between the two. Petty spite turned to surprise.

"Seriously you're leaving," Ezer inquired?

"Where to," Lucius asked?

They continue to ask, pressuring him for an answer.

"Calm down, calm down," Ithiel urged, gesturing to them to keep it down. "Ok, I don't know where I'll be traveling yet, nor do I know anything about it. But I do know it's a place not many have ever been to."

"That doesn't narrow it down," Lucius stated.

"Sadly that's true," Ezer agreed.

"Wait, is that why you seem to be off today, because you're leaving," Lucius asked?

"Mostly," he lied.

"Well look on the bright side," exclaimed Ezer. "You've been outside of the city more times than I have." He then took another drink. "You want to know the first thing I'm gonna do when I leave," he said as he began to boast.

"Let me guess, hunt down the Druwil," Lucius divulged.

"Who asked you," Ezer challenged Lucius?

"The Druwil," Ithiel inquired?

"It's nothing, just some Grimm fable. Legends say that they're older than The Fall of Dor-nest, and that there is only one left," Lucius told him.

"And I'm gonna hunt it down and kill it," bragged Ezer.

"Sure you are," Lucius sighed.

As they continued their conversation a new patron entered the tavern they were in. The foreign stranger approached the counter then began to converse with the owner. Lucius spotted and took note of this stranger's appearance.

His eyes were light blue, so obviously human. He had short black hair and his face bare. His skin was fair, but tan marks were prominent but not noticable. His attire was blue and grey with leather armor, and a dark cloak adorned on his shoulders. An explorer maybe? But from where he thought. He then began to cross off potential points of origin.

Eregost; too pale.

Irestia; too stern, and rough looking.

Nuel; not the romantic type.

Rawmaite; too short to hail from any of those islands.

Anarsta; he may need a second opinion.

"Hey Ithiel you're familiar with the northern people right?"

"I know of them. Why do you ask?"

Lucius pointed to the foreign figure at the counter.

"Any idea where he's from?"

He took a look at him to see if he can answer Lucius's question.

"I only know of the major cities, and trade centers, but if I had to make a guest he's most likely from Nenlant or near it, he answered."

"Any idea of his profession?"

"Your guess is as good as mine.

"Entschuldigen Sie, entschuldigen Sie meine Herren, an unknown voice spoke to them." They were cut off guard as the stranger they were talking about was all of a sudden standing right in front of them. "Is it okay if I bull up ein chair, he asked?" They both nodded in acknowledgement and gave him the go ahead. "Vielen Dank, meine Herren, he said."

"If you don't mind, may I ask what is your purpose here, Ithiel asked?"

"It is ein long schtory, put in schort I am here unter contract py zomeone vo visches ein Hautience vith zee City Lord, und zee ovner of zis blace tells me vu can help me vith zat, he surmised," as he pointed at Ithiel.

He was stunned by what he said.

"Why me," he Inquired?

Zee ovner told me zat vu vould tell me vy zo vo are vu?

"That depends who wants to meet him," Ithiel asked?

"Unfortunately I can't discloze zat Hinformazion," he said. "Zo can vu help me or not?"

Ithiel pondered in thought. Trying to see the strangers intentions. He didn't seem like a dishonest person. Maybe a little rough around the edges, but someone who wanted his intentions known.

"It must be important that this person sees him isn't it," he added as he took a drink of wine.

The stranger's integrity began to weaken. He grew annoyed at the silberäugig man. But he had to keep his composure. At least until his task was over. He asked again.

"Can vu help me or not?"

After some thought Ithiel gave into his demands. What's the worst that can happen he thought. This was of course his city, and home, with people that stand up for each other.

"As his son I think I can help your friend meet my father," he alleged. "Do you have a name?"

The revelation that he was the son of the man he was looking for, still had the stranger in awe.

"It's Isa, Isa of Nenarta," he answered.

"I was close," said Lucius as he took another sip.

"Nice to meet you Isa," Ithiel greated as he stood to shake his hand.

There was a noticeable height difference between the two. He stood a head taller than him. Isa felt a little intimidated.

"Nice to meet you too, um . . . sorry I didn't catch your name." he said as he shook his hand.

"Ithiel, Ithiel of the House of Ilsalos," he said. "So shall we leave?"

"Sicher."

As they began to walk, Isa noticed the other two.

"Vait vat apout zem," he asked?

Ezer may have had one too many drinks, and Lucius sat there in annoyance. This wasn't the first time his cousin was in this state. But he couldn't help but feel disappointed that they share blood. He turned his gaze to Ithiel.

"Don't worry about me, I'll get him home as soon as I can," sighed Lucius. "Take care of yourself though Ithiel."

Ithiel acknowledged what he said and continued on his way with Isa. The two left the tavern and proceeded to where the client was. It was about a half an hours' walk to their destination. He made sure to keep his guard up, for he is unsure if this was genuine cause or a trap. But who benefits from it. They arrived in an alley where a tall figure in red and grey waits. Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, and his head rises to see the pair approaching him.

"Who's this guy," he asked?

"Zir may I brezent Iziel, zee zon of Zilirin's city Lord," Isa answered.

"It's Ithiel,"he said, trying to correct Isa's accent.

"Your Lord Herod's," he asked flabbergasted?

"Yes I am, and I'm here in good faith that this is an important matter," stated Ithiel. "As such may I ask both the reasons for your secrecy and who you are that warrants an audience with my father?"

Surprised by his good fortune he relented. He stopped leaning against the wall and approached them. He was just a couple feet opposite of Ithiel. Silver eyes, met silver eyes. But they have never met before, until now as he began to bow to Ithiel.

"My name is Wyn, son of Aneirin of Gadronma," He revealed. " It is urgent that I meet Lord Herod, if Silirin, and the rest of Numen are to avoid the same fate as my homeland."

**NOTES**

Sorry for the long wait life got in the way and I'm trying to make these longer.

Hopefully the next one wont take 5 months


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The Sinda Castle/Silirin/ Endemar

"Okay this might sting a bit," said a Hospitler as they try to mend the wounds of the knight before them.

"Understatement of the age, he responded."

He holds in his screams as they do their job and try to heal him. Restraining himself he tries to ignore the pain. He thought losing his arm was painful enough but this was worse. Then again he probably fared better than others. He was just one of hundreds that needed aid. Each one with a wound worse than the other. While they receive treatment their leader is pressured to reveal the events that led to this defeat.

"By the time we arrived, Nenlant was the only stronghold left in Anarsta, Laban stated."

He stood facing The Grand Marshal; David, The Lord of Silirin; Herod, and The Arbiter of the Ostirio; Prisca. All of them questioned him about how and why their most distinguished legion had lost. To find the truth they continue to hear his tale. Herod then asked something he had been wondering about for a long time.

"What about the Lancer Wing from Gadronma, or the U.K.R.'s Northern territories?"

"Aneirin and his forces never came. Without their support the city was doomed, he answered."

The Kingdom of Nenlant had requested all available aid from their allies. The only ones to be able to respond were The City of Silirin and The United Kingdoms of Rawmaite. Nenlant was under threat from The Grand Eccumene's Armies. Nenlant was one of two major trade cities in Anarsta with it being the largest on land.

If it fell the north was doomed. Numen and the U.K.R. would be cut off from one another. The plan was for Silirn to send their best ground Legion, and Rawmaite would send in a Wing from the Gadroma Lancers. Air superiority and high quality warriors, Nenlant was guaranteed to survive. So what went wrong they asked? Why didn't their allies come?

"Judging by the large force that came from the north, Rawmaite most likely lost their territory, Laban stated."

After hearing what he just said puzzled them. Of all the known civilizations in or around Numen; Rawmaite was by far the largest and most dominant of them all. Thanks to their large armies and resources they rose to be the world's dominant empire. The thought of them losing any ground was unlikely to happen.

"That's not possible, It can't be. The United Kingdoms' wouldn't dare lose their main foothold in Numen or their land trade routes, argued David."

"Well apparently they did, and we were forced to retreat. As for Aneirin I have no knowledge to explain his absence, he testified."

That last part seemed to have distured Herod the most. He and Aneirin were after all close friends. They have known each other for years, even before they rose to positions of power. They had always been able to socialize with one another with ease. But now the times they are in now have put a strain on their friendship. He just hopes that his friend is alive and well. Prisca began to ask Laban.

"What was the strength of the enemy forces you encountered?"

"The Eccumenes' forces numbered over 28,000. Even with the city's garrison we were still outnumbered by a 2-1. An even fight in my opinion if you ask me, laban said."

"If it was an even fight, then how did you lose the city?"

Prisca asked him softly without insult. She knew how sensitive he was about losing. Especially with Nenlant being his greatest loss to date. Laban noticed her tone, and acknowledged her concerns. He continued and answered.

"My Knights and the local Nenians held the city as best as we could. Warring off every threat that came our way. Eccumene soldiers, Grimm and the growing fires that spread through the city. At first things were going well for us until a ship from the West came. An Eccumene warship."

"How many of them were there, Herod asked?"

"There was only one ship my Lord."

"One, are you sure, asked Prisca?"

"Yes but it wasn't common among their known Fleets. This one was special. Its hull was painted all black marked by white and red designs which gave it a grim appearance. They called it; Essence of Dying Worlds. Had you seen the ship you'd agree with the name."

The three of them turned to each other sharing the same gaze of concern. This all seems a little far fetched, but Laban has never lied about matters like this. But that begs the question? What kind of force aboard that ship?

"How could one ship turn the tide of the battle, David inquired?"

"The ship itself was equipped with artillery that I had never seen. It could possibly rival that of the Royal Navy's Serne class-cruiser. But that wasn't why we lost. The troop complement aboard the ship was, Laban declared."

The Knights and Dames of the Silote Legion were held in high regard. Most of its members had almost 5 decades of experience. Some have talents too exotic that most can't replicate. The leaders were brilliant of the mind that it would be rare to outsmart and maneuver around them. The warriors aboard that ship must have been something else to send them running.

"What was so special about these, . . . reinforcements that they can send our best legion running home, implored Herod?"

"To start, these reinforcements didn't appear to be part of the Eccumene Army. Their Uniforms matched the same grim appearance of their ship. At first we thought they were pirates, then they released their first wave. They attacked us soon after, making way for the rest of them to join the fight. Soon after they then led whatever forces were left of the Eccumene."

"What was the quality of these Warriors, David asked?"

"Far above the eccumene's normal standards. The Grimm aesthetic aside they were a force to be reckoned with. Even the ones that appeared to be the low class can rival a Silirin knight after 30 years of service, Laban answered."

That only worsened their fears. Some of those knights' held over 80 years of a human force can be on par with them, it could only be the result of unnatural means. Which begs the question: how many are there?

"How many of them were there, Prisca asked?"

Laban gave into deep thought. Trying to get an estimate. Trying to remember how many of these Demons were there.? Trying to remember without the horror they instilled in him. He soon gave him their answer.

"When they began their assault, and assuming the ship met their naval standards at least 600."

That caught them by surprise.

"600 unknown enemy warriors turned the tide of the battle, David inquired?"

"Like I said these weren't any caught us off guard and exhausted us. After they accomplished that the rest of them came. At first I thought It was Anerin finally arriving, but it wasn't him.

That raised more questions.

"Who, who wasn't Anerin, Herod asked, confused?"

"Thousands of them making their way to the city. Not by land or water. But by the sky they came. On the backs of Nevermores Wyverns, and other winged Grimm. Soon after thousands more came on the back of other Grimm," he stated as he remembered that terrifying sight. He then told them all the details of his most devastating defeat.

Nenlant/ Anarsta/ 10 days ago

A city of wonders, and trade. That was Nenlant in its golden years. Towering spires, reaching small towns built upon the lands flying in the sky. Held in place by large crystals of dark violet hues. Vast rivers, and streams below leading inland to coast. Truly a marvel of its time. Till now.

The Grand Eccumene had sent an Army group numbering over 28 thousand soldiers. On the first day they had laid siege to the lower city on the ground. As well as the river network. Though it cost them a few hundred troops they still had enough to continue the fight. One advantage they didn't have in this battle was air superiority. Nenlant had converted their airships from travel to war. These were meant to ferry people from the main city on the ground to the sky lands. Now they lay fire upon their invaders.

However the battle in the air is not the crucial part. If the garrisons of Nenlants spires fall then the upper cities are doomed. But all is not lost yet. For the Eccumene to win, they must first fight through the Arhon of the Silote legion. Three thousand silver eyed warriors are all that stand between Nenlant and its enemy. After all they were born to fight.

Four days have passed since the battle started. The Eccumene control over half of the lower city. The city garrison had taken heavy losses. Less than four thousand were left. As for the sky less than half of their airships remain, and continue to drop from the sky. But the tide has yet to turn in favor for one side. For in the minds of the combatants they can only guess who will triumph.

On the ground a fight most dread takes place. The Arhon hold their ground as their foe continues their siege. Swords clash as spears break against raised shields Some are prey to the dark beasts drawn by their hate for one another. Till someone claims a victory this bloody battle goes on.

"HOLD THE LINE," screamed the Marshal.

He parry's his blade against another. Their eyes locked, as their swords stress from the pressure of strength forced upon them. With his right hand he releases his grip and forms a fist. With it he slugs his foe across the face. He repeats this three more times till his opponent is disoriented. The force against his blade is weakened. With the advantage he pushes his foe back, so he can do a swift turnaround and kick. He succeeds and his foe now lays 2 ½ meters away on the ground.

His foe tries to rise only to meet an unfortunate end at the claws of two Beowolves. Sensing his hate and fear, to them he was seasoned to perfection. One of them had his arm in his jaws as the other went for the abdomen. Screams emanated from the poor soul as the beowolves had their way with him. He pulls out a dagger and stabs one of them in the eye.

They retaliate as he continues to stab the beowulf's head over and over again. The beowulf who had his arm in his jaws bites down hard. Causing the arm to fly away. He screams even louder in pain. Cursing the beast he tries to stab the head of the beowulf one more time. With the last of his strength he went for it. Only for the beowulf to turn his head from the stomach to the oncoming blade.

The beast gripped the hand in his jaws. It then bit, and tore off the only hand the man had. He screams in agony and realization that he was now unable to fight back. Then the wolf that had tore his first arm off bit down on his head, and swallowed it whole. They resumed their meal as the screaming stopped. The victim's foe that had put him there, only watched as he stood there.

He had yet to move from the spot after their fight. Taking in the carnage he had witnessed it had seemed to entrance him. Then the beowolves turn their gaze from their meal to him. He stood his ground as one lunged after him. Swiftly he moved, drawing his sword so that it had slashed the creature's throat. As it lay on the floor the Marshal brought his sword up and severed its head.

This enraged the other beowulf. It then charged him. To avoid the wrath of the beast he jumps into the air. As he falls back down he turns using the momentum to throw his sword through the monster's back. The weapon had pierced through it. The tip of the blade exposed from the chest was covered in blood blackest night. He then rushed to grab the hilt of his sword. Both hands gripped the blade and with all his strength moved the blade upward.

Swinging away from the creature its head, and chest split into two. It collapses to the floor and begins to turn into black smoke. He turned his head to the other to see it was further ahead into becoming nothing. His gaze then turned to the remains of his foe, or what's left of him. For some reason he couldn't understand why his defeated foe caught his attention more than the battle around him. He'll have to think about it for another time though.

He makes his way back to the imaginary line. On one side were friends and allies and on the other the enemy trying to breach it. He enters the ruined buildings they now fortified for the battle. He passes through several knights resting and mending wounds. He makes it all the way to the building they turned into a makeshift command center.

Once there he sees the Serviens aim their longbows down at the enemy keeping them at a distance. He also sees the young Nethrahari do their best handling logistics. He wonders if bringing the youngbloods was necessary. He makes his way to the top of the building's balcony where the main command was located. He approaches one of the knights there, and asks; "Captain status report?"

"Not well Marshal Laban. A majority of our Serviens are wounded with scores of them dead. Less than half of Nenlants makeshift war balloons remain in the air. The same can be said about their ground forces as well," the captain declared.

"What's the status of our enemy, Laban asked?"

"Not faring any better than us. Most of their Optimati have fallen. At least a few hundred of them are left. Their main force stands at about 17 thousand. As for the Faunus they brought with them they have yet to suffer any losses that we know of. But they still have a large number of troops that still out number ours."

That put pain to his thoughts. When the battle began the Eccumene's forces numbered over 28 thousand. As his forces numbered over 12 thousand with 5 thousand being his own people. Now days have passed and they still outnumber them 2-1. The only advantage they had was quality over quantity. But the biggest question still lingered in his mind. One that he needs answered.

"What of the Grimm Captain? How many of them are there, and what is the damage they have inflicted on both sides, he asked?"

The Captain hadn't put much thought into, but now that Laban mentioned it he noticed something. Something he didn't realize till now. He shared his thoughts with the Marshal.

"Strangely enough the grimm have been more focused on our forces than the eccumene's. Only rarely do one of their troops get attacked by a grimm. In comparison to our forces they're the aggressors. They should be the primary beacon for the grimm. Not us. Yet, what is also strange enough is that our battle is only attracting the lesser classes of grimm, such as beowolves, the captain stated."

What he said brought more concern to his mind than relief.

"A battle this large should have attracted grimm of different classes. Yet the grimm we're facing can easily be slain by our combat skill rather than our power."

"What do you mean sir, he asked?"

"First Aneirin and his forces have yet to join the fight, then the enemy somehow manages to have a large force come from the direction we least expect. Now we face lesser grimm. Something we can handle without our power and yet they arrive in massive hordes. Combine that with the threat of the Eccumene's army and by the time we survive to see the end we would've exhausted all of our endurance. Something tells me that the worst is yet to come Captain."

The words of the Marshal have left the room silent. Everyone who had heard began to have thoughts very dreadful. But for now they soldier on till the new treat arrives.

"What kind of threat is yet to come, Marshal, the Captain asked?"

"I don't know, but for now focus on the current fight for now, and inform Marshal Chaleb and the other commanders of this regiment to hold their ground, ordered Laban."

An expression of pain and sorrow was spread over the Captain's face. Laban picked up on this and asked; "What is it, Captain?"

"Sir . . . Marshal Chaleb is dead sir and all the commanders but one are dead. However Commander Selah is injured beyond the chance of returning to the battlefield anytime soon Sir," he said.

The situation is getting worse and worse, he thought.

"Where is she, Laban asked?"

"I had a team move her from here to the center spire sir. At least there she can get the proper help she needs, he declared."

"Good thinking, complimented Laban. What's your name Captain, he asked?"

"It's Belshazzar Marshal, he answered."

"How long have you severed?"

"Five decades sir. My service began since my days as an Edenyar."

"Congratulations Belshazzar, you are promoted to Commander, and until the battles over command of this regiment are yours now. Lets see this fight to the end, said Laban."

Both of them saluted and parted ways. Laban left, leaving the newly promoted Commander to take charge here. Everyone in the room only gazed in silence to what just happened. Belshazzar noticing their dumbfound expressions elected to get them back on track.

"You heard the Marshal, we have a battle to win here. The sooner we finish the sooner we can go home now move, move, move, he commanded!"

Everyone in the room returned focus to their task at hand. Hospitelers tend to the wounded. Serviens keep aim, and the knights hold the line. While the New bloods tend to the supplies and help in any way they can. As for the new commander he hopes the Marshal was right to give him this rank, and responsibility. May there be a swift end to this conflict.

As the Marshal made his way to the other regiments of his legion a strange noise was heard. A noise from the west spread through the city. This caught the attention of many on both sides. Laban hurried to the next command post to get a better view of what was coming. Once he reached the high vantage point he used a fieldglass to see what it was. It was a ship quite large. Its appearance; strange yet familiar. Both its hull and sails were black in color. Marked by lines of red, and white. The way they were stayled were almost grimm in appearance, he thought.

Then black clouds began to show above the deck. They then launched from the ship over to them. Flying through the sky at rapid speeds that if it weren't for the smoke trail they left, no one could've kept track. Scores of those lines landed on the upper city as well as behind their lines. What those black clouds were, Laban didn't know. Till two of them landed near him and he saw them.

Two tall figures stood in the middle of the court behind him. Hooded, and cloaked in black robes the only color standing out on them were the red markings. Highlighted by the white armor they were painted on. Their crimson blades adorned by black runes began to glow as they drew them. Holding their swords in a ready stance the glow of the blade revealed what was under their hoods.

White masks adorned by red markings. But they pale in comparison to the one feature that gave their grimm appearance further merit. Their glowing red eyes surrounded by a black rim. Almost giving the impression of a soulless monster. Whatever they were, they can't be good.

NOTES

Finally got this chapter finished. I'll admit it wasn't as battlepack as I wanted it to be. But hey that's what the next chapter is for. Also let me know if this chapter was a bit much or if you have any questions

Also here is the Silote Legions command structure and personnel at the battle

Marshal Laban

Under Marshal x 4

Commander x16

Captain x 48

Lieutenant x 192

Standards x 768

Knights/Dames x 2043

Serviens x 1536

Nethrahari x 768

Arhon(SEWs);3072

Serviens(Humans & Faunus); 1536

Nethrahari(young sews);768

Total; 5376 members


End file.
